


Leonardo DiCaprio could never (win)

by devilsxbride



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actor Castiel (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Bodyguard Dean Winchester, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, playful banter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27829066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilsxbride/pseuds/devilsxbride
Summary: Castiel Novak, TV-to-Movie star, is the next big thing in Hollywood. He's got a loyal fanbase, amazing friends, and a painful crush on his bodyguard Dean.One appearance at the Academy Awards event begins to unravel the secrets both he and Dean are hiding in their hearts, and as though their own self-sabotage isn't enough, Castiel's past choices and a reappearance of an ex lover make the matter even worse.Will they be able to break out of their toxic cycles and pull their heads out of their asses, so they can finally be together? Or is there a stronger force out there, able to keep them apart?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Leonardo DiCaprio could never (win)

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, guys! I've always wanted to write an Actor!Cas and Bodyguard!Dean fic, but I've been putting it off for the longest time because I've never written anything as long as I intend to make this. It's way too long for me to write in one piece, and I also know if I don't publish it in chapters, I'll just give up on it, so I'm giving this chapters thing a go to keep myself motivated.
> 
> As far as warnings go, this first chapter has some mentions of and references to homophobia. There are some very subtle hints at John's shitty parenting, that I may or may not further explore in the upcoming chapters (because I don't want to give the dude too much space in a fic that's supposed to celebrate Destiel). Also, Cas is a bit panicky and he's doing therapy, if that's important for you to know. 
> 
> I'll update the tags, characters and relationships as I go, 'cause a LOT more is going to be introduced and explored, and a lot of ish is gonna go down. It's gonna seem all playful and funny at first, but I promise some (delightfully!) angsty plot twists in the future chapters. I mean, what else can you expect from The Holy Trinity of Mutual Pinning/Slow Burn/Idiots in love?
> 
> I hope you enjoy this journey

Castiel first moved to LA about seven years ago. As opposed to Fargo, where it’s cold and windy half of the year, the weather here’s quite nice. Some of the lesser known hiking trails are pretty enjoyable, all of the film industry is at the palm of his hand and nightlife is not too shabby either, even if he’s not that much of a party maniac himself.

When he first moved, he was fresh out of college and way too broke to afford living in the city. Having to work two jobs _and then some_ on the side, only to be able to afford the bare minimum, certainly didn’t put the place in his good graces. 

He felt miserable and worn out more often than not, and had it not been for the amazing support system he’s had all along, he probably would’ve said “ _screw this”_ to the Hollywood dream and stayed behind to help his family with the farming business.

For the first three years, he probably did nothing but the few measly commercials that barely got him by. It took him a while to teach himself proper budgeting and he had to take a few hits to actually learn the importance of having legal advisor when signing contracts, but ultimately, the challenging roads he’s taken have taught him a lot.

If one was to ask his friends if fame had gotten to his head, he’d expect them to say no. Materialism never fit into his mindset, but modesty did. The home where he lives, he’s built with his own two hands – and much of the food he consumes, he’s grown alone.

Well, Charlie has helped. And so has Dean.

He first met John Winchester when auditioning for some Hallmark rom-com. After not getting the role, John scouted him on his way out, and Cas very well remembers how he said: “You’re _exactly_ what I’m looking for.”

Apparently, John was looking for the talent for this new show. Much of the plot was still kept under the wraps at that point, but he was told that it’d have lots of lore, mythology, biblical stuff and supernatural. Quite frankly, it was everything he never would’ve imagined himself starring in, because much of it kept him awake at night, but being given such an enticing offer during times when he wondered whether he’d have something to eat next week…well, Castiel couldn’t say no.

Funnily enough, it ended up being the one gig that put him on the radar.

It also ended up introducing him to Dean.

The show exposed him to a large and a devoted fanbase, but he quickly learned that where there’s passionate fans, there’s also the radically hateful ones. Castiel could deal with the jabs on social media, as much as they hurt, too. Even the stalking and nonconsensual filming he’s gotten used to.

It’s the people who’d find his home address and linger around like creeps who terrified him. Every now and then, he’d find a death threat attached to his doorstep, or his car—or Charlie’s, and that was even scarier. The thought of losing a loved one, because of this lifestyle that (even though it had its perks) in Castiel’s opinion wasn’t worth it…well, it’s safe to say it kept him awake at night, on more than one occasion.

It took him months to speak to John, who ended up committed to exclusively working with Castiel as his PR, about it—and when he did, John suggested that one of his sons could provide services he’s in dire need of.

If you’ve ever seen Dean Winchester, it goes without saying that one’s initial thoughts (including Castiel’s) as to what those services might be usually aren’t related to security and defense. Sure, Dean’s buff and strong, but there have always been _other_ things Castiel would prefer him doing with that body, besides using it as a human shield from bullets.

In fact, it’s one thing Castiel doesn’t like seeing it be used for, as geared up, protected and trained as it is. Because Castiel is unfathomably, irrevocably in love with Dean Winchester.

Dean’s what ended up being the most worth leaving his family behind for. He often feels conflicted whether he’s grateful to John for introducing them in a way that he did, or if he wants to smother him.

To say that Dean was ever something less than a soulmate of his, whatever that means, would be a lie. It probably took him three days of seeing Dean interact with people and care for his loved ones, and Cas was a goner.

Hell, even John, who always grossly mistreated his sons, had Dean’s blind devotion.

Dean was loyal to a fault and to be on the receiving side of that loyalty, the way Castiel has been, felt tethering. Castiel thinks if someone held a bullet to his head and made him choose between having Dean in his life and being dead, he would choose death.

His therapist thinks he’s codependent and she may be right.

Before coming here, before building this life for himself, he’s never had someone make him a first choice. A priority. He’s never had anyone asking him to stay, not even his family when he announced that he’s leaving the farm to seek opportunities in a largely different industry.

_No_ ; they said their goodbyes in a way that might as well have sounded as “Good riddance”. Sure, not all of his siblings were equally as cold, but not all of them were even present to see him leave.

When he left, he felt alone. _Here_ —

He feels _whole._

“I’m gonna pass out.” He rushes the words out. Hand against the left of his chest, he struggles to swallow and speak past the lump in his throat. “I’m gonna pass out.” He repeats, this time more urgently.

“Hey—“ Dean’s arms are firm and grounding against his shoulders, and he’s tilting his head down, brows up, to look him straight in the eyes. “Deep breaths, come on. In—“ he takes a deep inhale through his nostrils, and Castiel can see him do the box breathing count with subtle nods. “—and out.” Dean exhales, soundly and through his teeth.

“I hate this. I absolutely hate this.” He’s spewing out words, ranting as he always does when he’s nervous. His brain can’t keep up with his mouth. “I hate competitions; you know I’ve always hated them!”

He even hated 5th grade spelling bees, despite being good at and loving spelling. And bees. He loves bees, not that those two are in any way correlated. _Anyway_ , after having won a special prize at 4th grade, the stakes became too high. How does he top a perfect performance?

_He doesn’t._

The expectations—they were all just too much for Cas to handle, even if most of the time, said expectations were solely his own.

“They’re all practically celebrating my win on social media already, and there’s no way I’ll get it two years in a row.” He just stands there, eyes uttering a silent plea to Dean’s unrelenting gaze. “Dean, they’ve convinced me that I’ll win and if I don’t it’ll crush me. I’ll cry on TV and make a mess out of myself, and everyone will remember me as this sore loser who’s—“

“Hey, _heyheyhey_ —“ Dean cuts right through, giving him a gentle shake. “The only thing you’re losing right now is your mind, man. Get a grip!”

It’s the kind of language that Cas usually associates with negative emotions, as he’s heard his father use the phrases alike, but he knows Dean means well. Dean’s patient and caring, even when he’s not the most cautious at the words he uses.

Dean’s nothing like his father. Cas knows his heart and that’s all that matters.

The grip on his shoulders is released, and Dean’s hands come to cup either side of his face gently. The way he’s held, like he’s a fragile thing, makes him feel so vulnerable and yet, there’s no one he trusts more with his sanity.

_He has to remind himself that the way Dean’s touching him doesn’t mean what his deceptive heart’s trying to make him believe it does._

“Even if you lose—and that’s an ‘ _if’_ just to entertain you, your fans would be _pissed._ They’d call bull on social media. They’d fucking destroy the academy awards, ‘cause it would be snub of the century.”

Dean leans in even closer, and at this distance, Cas can count each of his nose freckles individually. He thinks the only reason he stops panicking, even for a second, is because he has to get a grip on his traitorous heart in case Dean can palpate his pulse over his carotid.

_Dean can’t know._ Dean would never—he’s not even into guys, certainly not into Cas.

“Okay, but what if I _cry?_ ” he goes on, ignoring his background thoughts, because _that’s_ the part he’s even more concerned about than losing. _Well,_ either will be mortifying and painful, but to have the cameras capture his childlike behavior and disappointment, for the large audience to replay _over and over and over again…_ that’s—

“Then—“

“I’ll be here to fix your leaking mascara.” Charlie chimes in, and bless her heart, Cas knows she means well, but he’s really not up for the humor. He practically whines while throwing a desperate glance to the left at her.

She gives him an apologetic grimace.

“Or I’ll be waiting backstage with Wacky McWiener costume for you to put on, and we’ll leave the place undercover. And then—“ Dean’s face beams, like he’s got the most brilliant idea. He even raises his index finger in a silent ‘ _wait for it’,_ building the anticipation for what Cas _knows_ will be the most ridiculous crap to come out of Dean’s mouth. “—and then we move to some countryside in Europe, where no one knows you. Maybe somewhere in Ireland, and you were a kilt, just to be sure,”

“Kilts are Scottish, Dean.” He deadpans.

“Whatever. The point is—“

“The point is that Dean wants to see dem calves, Cas.” Charlie interrupts, wiggling his brows in a teasing matter.

Dean scolds her with a glare, prompting her to press her lips tightly together and make a zipping gesture.

“ _The point is_ —“ he reaffirms. “Whatever happens tonight, _and you winning is what’s gonna happen_ , the world’s not gonna end and you’ll move on from it by the time food is served.”

“But—“

“No buts, I—“

“Not even yours? ‘Cause I’m very fond of…”

Dean crosses his arms in front of his chest and steps back. Castiel’s face feels cold without Dean’s hands against it.

He knows Dean’s gonna let him use flirty banter as a coping mechanism 9/10 times, but he also knows that now it’s not serving much purpose besides pushing things under the rug, and both Dean and his therapist agree that he should face his own insecurities head on more often.

Lately, the two of them have been sounding much more alike in number of departments.

“Castiel.” Dean utters his full name, and it doesn’t have the same connotation as when his father does it. This is Dean _caring._ Dean wanting to help. It’s not about reprimanding or gaslighting. “I’ll be here, the whole time, and we’ll figure it out. But—“

“But I’m not going to lose.” Cas finishes, just as Dean does.

“But you’re not going to lose.”

He takes another deep inhale.

“I could really use a hug right now.” He asks, because that’s what’s he supposed to do. _You’re supposed to communicate your needs with the people you need them from,_ his therapist would say, _people are not mind readers, how else are they supposed to know?_

He’s happy to see Dean’s serious demeanor fade, only to be replaced with a soft smile before both he and Charlie envelop him in a tight hug.

“Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” he whispers into Dean’s ear.

“I heard that—“ Charlie whispers out from the other side. “—and I hate to be a party pooper, but that’s my make up brush.”

All three of them chuckle, neither making a move to pull back first.

“They’d be fools not to call out your name. There’s no one in this room half as talented and beautiful, inside and out, as you.” Dean murmurs and Castiel blushes at the warmth and adoration lacing Dean’s words. He allows for his eyes to close as he sags against his friend.

_Safe,_ he thinks. _Peaceful,_ he feels.

Shit, he’s enamored.

“Not even Leo?”

“Especially Leo.” Charlie and Dean respond in unison.

* * *

There’s nothing Dean wants more than to place his hand upon Cas’s knee to stop it from bouncing.

_Well,_ there’s _one thing…_ but that’s certainly not appropriate to think about right here and now. Or anywhere else, _ever_.

They’re all seated in the fifth row, and he still finds it odd that he gets to be the first one seated next to Cas, instead of his immediate family. Well, what little of them has shown up.

Gabriel is here, and so is Anna. Lucifer came along, but he decided to ditch the ceremony for the bar right away, and it’s just about what they’d expect from him.

“At least he showed up.” Cas said, and Dean knows he meant to sound nonchalant about it, but he could tell he was still hurt by the lack of involvement and support his family was willing to provide.

Dean wanted to say a lot more on the topic than Cas is keen to, but he ultimately settled for a “mhm” that was fooling no one. This included Cas, judging by the way he then placed his palm against Dean’s, in an expression of silent gratitude for letting this one slip by quietly.

“I love how Dean-o here is sweating worse than Cassie.” Gabriel leans backwards in his seat, addressing Anna three chairs to his left.

“I’m not sweating.” Dean protests and then takes five extra seconds before taking a whiff underneath his armpit, as subtly as he can, because he knows there are cameras everywhere.

He smells just fine.

“He’s a slow one, isn’t he?” Gabe huffs, and Anna joins in.

“They’re quite a match when it comes to being oblivious.”

“ _Shh._ ” Cas interrupts. “Behave.”

He sounds like a mother hen, even though he’s not the oldest child of the family. Nonetheless, from what Dean’s heard, he’s always been the most mature, the most responsible one.

_Someone had to be,_ Cas had said – and Dean knew what that was like. _Having_ to fill the role you didn’t necessarily imagine yourself as having, because no one else would. That’s what he did with Sam, and although he’ll never regret stepping into a caretaker shoes from the youngest of age, he sometimes does wonder if he’d end up doing stuff as great and big as Sammy does, if he’d gotten a chance at a different life.

Still, he’s happy as he is, here – _with Cas._

“I love it when you get all bossy.” Dean tries to be humorous, bumps his knee against Cas’s and wiggles his brows suggestively.

“Oh, I’ll show you bossy when we’re out o—“

Anna clears her throat, drawing their attention.

“Perhaps tone it down a bit, you two, would you?”

Dean knows the sexual and flirtatious banter are something Cas does to distract himself when he’s feeling nervous. He’s so fidgety, it’s a damn miracle that he’s even able to keep himself in the seat.

He knows not to make anything more out of these remarks, _knows_ that he shouldn’t let his mind wander in places, yet he finds it so delightfully challenging not to indulge himself.

The only reason why he doesn’t milk this tiny, pretense luxury even further (so he has stored content to rely on when he’s back at home, alone and Cas-less) is because he sees Cas’s demeanor shift in response Anna’s tone.

Although Castiel has dated mostly women—well, _exclusively_ women in the public eye, but Dean’s seen him bring men back home or even caught said men blowing Cas in bar’s bathroom stalls—he knows his bisexuality is a huge part of his identity that Cas is still trying to come in terms with.

It’s something Cas still associates with shame, due to the way his subtle expressions of his sexuality were handled by his family (minus Gabriel), and that’s something Dean can relate to.

Dean can barely admit to himself that he fancies men, or a _man –_ singular, because it’s always been just Cas, where men are concerned – so he doesn’t have the balls to speak up or do much in situations like these, where Cas is on the receiving end of bigotry.

Anna is not even the worst of them. Dean doesn’t know her as well as he does Cas, or Gabe, but he knows that she feels uncomfortable with that part of Cas _because her mother feels uncomfortable about it._ It’s a learned behavior, and Anna has recently been showing signs of wanting to unlearn it, but it’s a slow process, with lots of ups and downs, and Dean’s not as patient as Cas is.

Still, after Dean’s little outburst during the last year’s Thanksgiving, upon listening to Naomi’s subtle jabs throughout the evening and then the final homophobic monologue at the end of the night, Cas asked him not to meddle anymore.

To be fair, Cas snapped rather than _asked,_ and then he apologized for reacting the way he did. But Dean understood, what that whole ordeal and Dean’s involvement must’ve felt like, and he probably would’ve felt just as uncomfortable if the tables were turned.

So he tries not to meddle.

Cas must’ve felt the effort it took Dean not to defend his honor, because he leaned slightly closer to him and whispered low enough for only Dean to be able to hear.

“Good boy.”

Thank God for the cut and the fabric of the suit he was wearing, because otherwise Dean wouldn’t be able to hide the immediate growing erection in response to that phrase.

“You—I’m never telling you anything again!” He grits through his teeth. One time – he told him _one time_ about this thing, this _fetish_ as Cas calls it, and now this asshole… this smirking asshole is using it against him.

Fuck, if only Cas knew that it was _his voice_ that Dean imagined murmuring those words in the privacy of their home. His hands, that he imagined around his throat, thumb pressing against his jugular. His cock, sliding in between his buttocks, while Cas is weighing him down against the mattress…

“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?” Cas continues, and Dean would let this go on, _he would_ but whenever he does, he finds it _that_ much harder to remind himself tomorrow that this is all just a coping mechanism for Cas.

That this isn’t foreplay, it isn’t pillow talk, it isn’t a promise—and it isn’t _real._

Dean’s been there for long enough to see Castiel’s relationships grow—and then crash and burn. He’s seen him fall in love, and fall out of it. He’s heard him yell and seen his partners break plates in their apartment. He’s found him drunk and passed out in the alleys, before paparazzi could, and held his head as he vomited the mornings after. Dean’s taken some of the hits that came along with Castiel’s broken heart, even when they weren’t intended for Dean to take, and he’s seen it all. The beautiful and the ugly.

And because he’s seen it, he knows – that what Cas feels for him, is not _that._

It’s not love.

Cas doesn’t see him that way and Dean’s made his peace with it. And that’s why he can’t let these banters go much further, because he can’t—

_He just can’t do this to himself. Not anymore. Not after all this time._

“Alright, Casanova. Settle down. They’re about to announce you as a winner of motherfucking everything.”

But he can still feel Cas’s gaze on him, even if his own tries to remain ahead. He can even feel that gaze shift to something softer.

“What would I do without you?” Cas says, and Dean feels like someone had knocked all the air straight out of his lungs.

_Christ,_ Cas can’t keep saying shit like this, because Dean’s just about to lose it one of these days. _It’s all too much._

He tries to keep his face as neutral as possible when he turns to the side, even though those _blues_ are staring right through his soul. _God,_ he feels so helplessly exposed.

“Honestly? You probably wouldn’t even know which underwear to shop for.”

“Hey, that’s—“

“Are you wearing boxers or briefs right now? What color are they?”

Cas opens his mouth and then, after a couple of seconds of pondering, closes it again.

Figures, since Dean’s the one who hands it to him every morning, and Cas is just about the least interested person in clothes. He puts stuff on mechanically, couldn’t care less, since he’s actually paying people to think about his appearances instead of him.

And he much more prefers walking around naked anyways.

It’s one thing Dean will never get used to— _not that he ever wants to. Hell, he’ll never protest against that, either._

He’s a creep.

“Thought so.”

Cas’s fidgeting seems to be put under control just as Ricky Gervais delivers a punchline to his joke and the category where he’s nominated is announced. The calmness lasts for about twenty seconds, before Cas rushes the words out.

“Leo is going to win.”

Even with all the cameras in the room, Dean possibly shoves a whole fist inside his mouth so he doesn’t groan in defeat alongside Gabe, Anna and Charlie.

**Author's Note:**

> you can come talk to me at @aelysianmuse on tumblr or in the comments here. I'll love it either way. Reader's engagement is <3
> 
> Chapter updates will, hopefully, be regular and consistent. (weekly? bi-weekly? we'll see)


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